Forever
by Furyan Goddess
Summary: Sylar has been an evil bastard. Everyone who knows him fears him. Can the one man who has lost the most learn to love him and save him from himself? M/M Slash, Pylar M for content
1. Chapter 1

Author: FuryanGoddess  
Title: Forever  
Fandom: Heroes~ Post Brave New World  
Raiting: NC-17 for M/M Slash and language.  
Warning: M/M Slash, talk of oral, anal  
Paring: Sylar/Gabriel and Peter  
Disclaimer: I make no money by writing this and no harm or copyright infringement is intended.  
Feedback: Yes please. My first Heroes slash piece  
Archive: No thank you  
Author's notes: This was supposed to just purge the sex ideas from my head... but it kinda turned into a story. Porn w/ plot, I hope. Extra thanks to Bitten for beta and MTR for help beta'ing also :D

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They had shared the night. Just one. That was all it had taken for Peter to realize the magnitude of his mistake. Every touch, every taste was seared into his brain. A brush of fingers here, a long, lingering kiss there. Just thinking about it made it feel as if it were happening at that very moment. Panicked, he did the only thing he could. He ran. He ran as fast and as far as he could. He left with a single suitcase, just what he could throw together on very short notice. Like while Sylar was in the shower, and hightailed it out of his own apartment.

He booked air passage to the most obscure place he could think of that he could travel to without a passport. He didn't have time to grab that or forgot, whatever the case, he had to stick to the US and find a place where Sylar would never think to look. The Alaska's Bering Sea coast. Sylar would expect Peter go to California, maybe visit Claire. Peter hated to dump his problems on his niece like that but she could take care of herself.

Sylar. Holy FUCK, what had he been thinking. He hadn't been; that was the problem. His cock had done all the thinking for him and he was just along for the ride. And what a ride it had been. _Oh, God,_ Peter groaned to himself, _could Sylar kiss._ Deep and intense. He had a way of making you the center of his universe and everything else fell away.

He was addictive and dangerous. Dark and wicked. He was Sylar.

Peter shifted in his coach class seat and whimpered. The seats on the plane must have been made out of concrete. He had flown many times before, but never had he been so uncomfortable. And his ass burned white hot, reminding him that only hours before, Sylar had been buried balls deep inside his body.

He was sore in places best not thought about in public. Christ, even his skin still smelled like Sylar and there was sure to be bruises. Grinning slightly, Peter was pretty sure he left a few of his own. Running his hands through his hair, he thought about the recent turn of events.

How in the hell had this happened? He had spent the last few months avoiding Sylar as much as possible. But Sylar, being Sylar, wouldn't be put off any longer. It seemed that he felt that he and Peter bonded while they were trapped behind the wall and now that Sylar had become a self-proclaimed hero, wanted to be BFFs with Peter.

There was no way Peter could do that. After all the shit Sylar had put him and his family through, how could he just forget it and move on like nothing ever happened? Sure, maybe Sylar's change would stick. Maybe he would stay nice, play nice. But was it up to Peter to be there, step by step to make sure? Not so much.

Still, Sylar was a stubborn bastard and when he got something in his mind, there was no changing it. He had shown up at Peter's door the night before, flustered, angry at being blown off, his calls going un-returned. He seemed possibly even hurt?

His hair had been mussed and his cheeks had a slight pink glow to them. As Peter stood there, staring at the man he had once hated with everything he had, he felt something change. Had Sylar really changed? Or maybe it had been Peter? Either way, Sylar's distress affected him greatly and when he took a step back to allow the taller man to pass, he knew he was doomed.

Peter liked women and he liked men. A secret that no one but his brother knew. Nathan had caught him once, getting fucked for the first time by a pretty boy. Loving every minute of it. Barely a man, Peter caved and acted out of pure lust and allowed the boy to talk himself into his bedroom. Nathan had been furious and threatened to ruin the man's life and tossed his naked ass out the door. Peter had been mortified. It was bad enough to get caught fucking, add the fact it was by another guy. Well, Christmas that year had been a tense one, their mother still asked why.

He hadn't touched a man since. Not until Sylar showed up, all pissed off and righteous.

"What do you want, Sylar?"

"For starters, you to stop calling me that. I told you, I go by Gabriel now."

Peter snorted. Right, Gabriel. The angel. "Why are you here, _Gabriel_?" The way Peter said his name was nothing short of an insult.

"What the fuck is your problem, Peter? Do you think you're so much better than me?"

"I know I am." "Please," Sylar sneered, "I've seen you do some pretty nasty shit, Peter. Don't pull that holier-that-thou attitude on me and start acting like Nathan."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Peter roared and punched Sylar hard in the face. His lip split and blood ran freely down Sylar's chin. A second later Peter watched as the skin knitted and all that was left was a trail of blood. Peter stared at it, mesmerized by the deep crimson. It made him realize that Sylar was still human, no matter how insane he acted. The sharp scent of metal filled the air, causing Peter's nostrils to flare.

Sylar's tongue flicked out to taste the fluid and Peter's breath caught in his throat.

What had he done? He punched him for no reason, hurt him for no reason. Sylar had spoken the truth, Nathan always had an air about him that made you feel less in his presence. It was annoying and Peter had chafed against it his whole life.

Before he realized what he was doing, Peter reached up and brushed at the thin trail with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He looked up and his eyes collided with the deep, chocolate of Sylar's.

Sylar flicked his tongue out again, but this time, he licked the pad of Peter's thumb before he leaned forward slightly and sucked it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Peter's. It was a beautiful sight and once again, Peter broke. He was weak, sick and twisted, but when he shoved Sylar up hard against the front door and pressed his body tight against him, everything just felt right.

His lips crushed Sylar's and when Sylar started kissing back, hard and with teeth, Peter's knees almost gave out. It was wrong, he knew it had to be. After everything that had happened between the two of them, this was wrong on so many levels. None of that mattered now. Only the taste of Sylar's blood and lips, the feel of his hands and the scent of his skin. That was all Peter cared about.

Clothes had been shed in no time as hands roamed, touched and teased. Once Sylar was almost naked, his damn boots proved to require more time that Peter could spare, he dropped to his knees and took Sylar deep into his mouth.

The male musk and taste of salt made him groan while Sylar cursed and threaded his fingers in Peter's hair. His grip was tight, painful and it added to the harsh arousal that surrounded them both. This time, there was no risk of getting caught. No one to walk in without knocking. Peter had made sure he locked the door. Cell phones discarded and landlines knocked off the cradle, they were alone, no one to interrupt.

They could take their time, linger. When Peter finally managed to swallow Sylar whole, Sylar pulled hard on his hair and withdrew from his mouth.

"No," he growled, "I want to be inside you, Peter, I need to be."

Knowing it was a bad idea, Peter cursed and began to remove his own clothes anyway, dropping them as he walked toward his unmade bed.

The sheets were rumpled and needed a wash, not that any of that mattered now. He didn't have the time or the mindset to feel embarrassed; he just finished stripping naked and crawled on to the bed.

Peter watched as Sylar stalked across the room. His steps silent and precise. His eyes focused and intense. Sylar was hunting, and he was the prey. Peter shivered at the very thought as his cock filled even more.

He looked as much as he was able too, in the few seconds it took the taller man to reach him. Long and lean, Sylar was nothing but muscle. His chest had a faint dusting of black hair and his cock was thick and heavy with arousal.

It had been a very long time since he'd been fucked and the one time it had happened, the dude hadn't been packing half of what Sylar had.

"Wait," Peter blurted out and Sylar froze. Peter reached out his hand, "Give me the power to regen." Sylar cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Come on, man. It's gonna hurt."

Sylar grinned and grabbed Peter's leg before he pulled him hard. Peter flopped back on the bed with a 'uff' and Sylar climbed on top of him.

"No powers, Peter. We're kickin' it old school tonight." Sylar leaned down and licked Peter's nipple, "When I shove my cock inside of you, I want you to remember it. The first time I claimed you as mine. The moment I owned you."

The words pissed him off, but when Sylar bit down lightly on his nipple, any thoughts of protest flew out of his head and the only word out of his mouth was, "Please."

Peter bolted awake, calling out for Gabriel. The older lady next to him just looked at him strangely. He gave her an awkward smile and tried to explain. He made up something quickly, telling her the truth would surely shock her into an early grave. "Ahh, Gabriel is my _brother_. He's in some trouble, I'm flying out to help him."  
"Humm... ummm," she muttered and he could tell that she didn't believe a damn word that he said.

Peter cursed to himself. He always had been a shitty liar. "Fine," Peter said with a sniff and leaned in close to her, "he's a crazed killer that I let screw me six ways to Sunday last night and now I'm running away like a scared little girl. Left him in my own apartment and took off."

The older woman looked at him and threw her head back and roared with laughter.

"Oh, is that funny?" Peter asked her and then started laughing himself. They both laughed and laughed until everyone around the was shhshing them.

Finally, after they calmed down, the lady wiped her eyes and said, "You can't defeat fate, Peter. Stop running and stop hiding. Be the man you're capable of being."

"Yeah," he muttered again and fell silent. It took him a few moments to realize that he never gave the woman his name but before he could ask, they had to fasten their seat belts for landing. The normal excitement and nerves kicked in as they began their descent and finally, touched down. Peter unbuckled himself and reached to get his bag. When he turned to ask how she knew his name, she was gone. Swallowed up in the throng of people. Gone.

Peter stepped off the plane and shivered. Seattle, Washington. It was cold and rainy and he had five hours to kill before his next flight. A drink was in order, maybe some food and time to think things through.

Gabriel heard the door shut with a click and sighed. He pressed his head against the cool tile wall and allowed the pain to come. He should have known better than to think that Peter would stick around. It was just like him to run. Run away and not deal with whatever this thing was between them.

Peter had been avoiding him for months, but this time, it was actually physical, putting distance between them. Miles, Gabriel was sure of it. He flicked the water off and stepped out of the shower. He dried off and wrapped the towel loosely around his hips.

Walking into the single bedroom, he stopped and stared at the rumpled bed. All the blankets were on the floor and the the fitted sheet was hanging on by diagonal corners. The scent of sex and skin lingered heavily in the air.

Still, Gabriel just looked on, deep in thought. Wondered what his next move should be, should he allow Peter his time or go after him. he remembered what it felt like to have Peter wrapped tightly around him. Reflecting on the feelings swirling around in his chest, he frowned. He had never allowed himself to open up so fully with anyone before. To have that gift thrown back in his face was painful at best. But what did he really expect? Shit had never been easy for him, why would it start going his way now?

He hurt, more than he should have. Gabriel chewed on that for a while, on what he _really _felt for Peter. It had to be more than just plain lust. More than the need to own and conquer? The absence of Peter was like a physical ache deep inside of Gabriel and that scared him on a level like never before.

Could he be in love with Peter?

Gabriel had never really had any experience with the emotion. Sure, he had liked Elle well enough, for a while. Until he realized how much she had well and truly screwed him over. She could have saved him, saved a lot of people, but she didn't. She did her duty and fucked his life up forever.  
Peter on the other hand never pretended to like him or be his friend. Had never lied to Gabriel and with his power of lie detecting, it would have been easy to tell. On top of the fact that Peter lied like hell. He had always told Gabriel how he felt and how much he really, truly disliked him. Until last night. There was no way Peter could have faked that kind of need. The tension and release of his body spoke more than words ever could have.

Gabriel thought about what it had felt like to enter Peter. The tight heat stretched around him. The arch of the younger man under him. He couldn't resist the urge to nibble on Peter's throat, smell his skin. The whimpers coming from Peter's throat drove Gabriel crazy and when their eyes locked, moments before they came, well, it was the most sexy and beautiful thing that Gabriel had ever seen.

He wanted that again, over and over. He wanted to know what it felt like to have Peter inside of him. What his cock would taste like, gliding over his tongue. There was only one way that any of that would happen. He'd have to go after Peter, bring him home, or stay where ever he was. It didn't really matter to Gabriel, as long as they were together.

When they were behind the wall together, they couldn't help but deal with some of the issues between them. Sylar had been at his weakest point. Scared, alone and in hell. Then Peter was there, giving him hope. Trying to save them both. Putting his faith into a man that didn't deserve any. Peter had saved him from hell, from living his life as Sylar and having no chance at redemption.

He had a second chance now and he wanted to do right by the younger man. He wanted to prove to Peter that he'd been right. That he'd been worth fighting for, worth breaking down the wall for. If it hadn't been for Peter, Sylar would still be stuck behind that wall, alone. Scared and broken. More insane than ever before.

With a quick snap of the wrist, Gabriel yanked off the floppy sheet and threw it with the rest. He searched the drawers and found the second set and made the bed neatly. After that, he picked up his clothes from the floor and proceeded to get dressed. He looked around the room for anything important that might have been left behind and then shut and locked the door behind him.

Having time to kill, he walked to his small apartment and changed. He kept nothing personal, nothing but his watch, which he strapped on his wrist, reminding him of who and what he once was. Who he never wanted to be again.

He stopped at the local diner and ordered the special of the day. Gabriel ate quietly, alone, in the back booth wondering where Peter would have gone to. First instinct told him he'd go to Claire, but that was just too easy. Peter was all about not making this easy on him. He was fighting for his freedom; trying to sever all ties and break away from Sylar for good. Gabriel wasn't having it.

While he had been looking for sheets, he found Peter's underwear drawer and in it, his passport, so he couldn't have left the country. Would he go south? To Texas maybe? To Noah? No, Peter had a lot of issues with him also.

North then. It had to be north. Where? Peter needed people around him. Loved the city life, it fed him. So, if he was running from him, he'd go somewhere with very few people, trying to throw Gabriel off his trail.

Gabriel closed his eyes and breathed deep. The last thing that Peter had touched had been the doorknob to his apartment. He needed to focus, bring up the clairvoyancy he had acquired. He felt the cold, saw a glimpse of mountains. Grinning, Gabriel paid his bill and began walking toward the outskirts of town. After a quick glace around, he launched himself up in to the air and started making his way toward Peter. Toward his future.

Peter sat alone at a small table, near the back of the bar. It was round and only had two seats. An untouched amber bottle gripped tight in his hands, Peter rested his forehead against the lip of it. What had he done? He was so alone, so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep and feel Gabriel's warm body next to his.

Why was he letting his past fears and insecurities keep him from being happy? Nathan wasn't there anymore to disapprove. His father was gone also; he could no longer be disappointed any by his failure of a son. Both of them were gone. Because of Sylar. Because of the man he just let fuck him over and over again.

"You good there, Buddy?" the bartender asked. Peter just grunted at him. What could he say, really? On top of that, Peter somehow managed to stumble into what had to be the closet gay biker bar to the airport. Of all the shit ass luck. He so didn't want to be propositioned right now. He was in no mood for niceties. He didn't want to start any kind of fight he was sure to lose.

What he wanted to do was drown himself in beer, but for some reason, he seemed incapable of even that. "What the fuck, it wasn't like it was _that _good," he muttered to himself. Lied to himself. Nope, still wasn't any good at that.

Peter heard the door open, felt the air around him crackle and knew he'd been found. Part of him, a very large part, had been relieved. The rest of him was enraged that he couldn't, no matter what, escape Sylar's clutches.

"Hello, Peter," Gabriel said evenly, casually as he walked through the bar, all eyes on him as he strutted toward Peter.

Peter glanced up in the mirror that ran the whole back length of the room and locked eyes with his lover.

"What do you want, Sylar?" Peter whispered tiredly. He wasn't the least bit surprised that Sylar found him, actually, he was shocked it took him this long. Clearly, the older man gave him some extra time to stew in his juices. Literally. Peter still had yet to shower.

Gabriel came up behind him and leaned in, putting an arm on either side of the table next to Peter's, boxing him in. "I told you to call me Gabriel."  
Peter didn't have a response. He knew that he had called him Gabriel the night before and then again on the plane. He was starting to see the man in a different light and that scared the shit of of him. How could he so easily forget and forgive?

"What do you want?" Peter growled, leaving off the name. He couldn't go there, not yet.

Gabriel didn't care if they had everyone's attention in the bar, he leaned into Peter's neck, causing the man to shiver, "I want to know why you ran from me, while I was in your shower."

Steeling himself against Sylar's charisma, Peter said, "Because this whole thing is a mistake."

Laughing, Gabriel pulled back and said, "It didn't feel that way last night." He moved to take the seat across from Peter but stopped when Peter jumped up. He watched as the amber bottle tipped and dumped its contents onto the table and then the floor. Gabriel looked up and frowned.

"I can't do this, Sylar," Peter all but yelled.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and said, "It's Gab-"  
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I'll call you Sylar if I fuckin' want too. You ARE Sylar," Peter roared, pointing at him

"I was," Gabriel said, this time with a little more bite to it. Since they broke out of the wall, he had been extra careful about keeping his emotions in check. It wouldn't do to get pissed off and blow something or someone up. Peter was starting to make him angry though.

With a wail of pain and anger, Peter's fingers started sparking blue.

"Oh, I see. Got one of Daddy's powers, do we?" Gabriel said and allowed the electrical current to surge through him, "You wanna play, Pete? You want to hurt me? I've been using these powers a lot longer than you. You can't take me, we both know it."

Silence hung heavy in the bar, broken only by a few chairs scraping as people scrambled to get out of the way. By now, word of certain individuals with special powers had gotten around. Still, chances are, no one in the bar had ever really seen one in the flesh before. It was kind of disconcerting, especially when they were getting ready for a show down.

"If you want to hurt me, Peter, just run away again. I won't come after you this time."

Gabriel's voice was cool and even. Too calm for the emotions swimming around in his fathomless eyes and Peter could tell he had meant what he said. "You killed my brother," Peter said on a choked sob.

"Hey, he came after me," Gabriel said in defence.

"Because you cut the top of his daughter's head off."

"Oh, it grew back."

Peter's eyes went wide. How could he be so flippant? That was the Sylar in him. The part he'd never really truly get rid of. Gabriel might learn to care, but Sylar never would. "It still fucking HURT."

With a large sigh, Gabriel had to agree, "Well, I'm sorry about that. I didn't have any morphine. Besides it wouldn't have worked on her anyway."

Like that helped. "You killed me!"

"Eahh, Claire saved you."

"But you didn't know that?"

"I had a feeling."

"A FEELING!"

Gabriel shrugged.

Bringing up yet another point, Peter continued, "You killed my father."

"Hey, I only did that because it saved you from doing it. He was going to kill us both, well, you. I can't die, but that's beside the point."

"Oh, so you were being charitable?"

Gabriel grinned, "I guess you could say that. I didn't want you walking around with that on your shoulders. You don't do well with guilt, Peter. Like now, for instance."

"Fuck you! What what about my mother? You kissed her in front of me, with tongue, that's just disgusting."

Sparks flew off of Gabriel and the bottle on the table next to them exploded before he calmed himself, "She deserved a lot worse than that for what she did to me, Peter."

Peter sighed and had to agree with him there. She sure knew how to be a stone cold bitch. "She's still my mother."

"What do you want from me, Peter?" Gabriel asked, his voice cracking, "To say I'm sorry? Is that _really_ going to help? I did some bad shit, we both know that. I wish I could take it all back, wish I had never hurt you," he took a step toward Peter, "but if I hadn't done all of those horrible things, we'd have never been stuck together behind that wall. We never would have gotten to know each other. Peter... please, if you walk away from me-"

"Why is it my responsibility to keep Sylar away? Why is it up to _me_?" Peter asked, trying to understand, trying to make Sylar see the weight he was putting on him.

"Because I'm weak, Pete. I'm an addict. I crave it, every day. The power. I hear the voices, begging me to kill again. Take what I want, what I _deserve_. They tell me I'm better than everyone else, but they're quiet when you're near. I'm a better man when you're around me."

"Shit, Gabriel."

Hearing his name, his real name on Peter's lips gave him a little bit of hope. "I don't want to hurt anyone else, Peter. Please help me." Gabriel sensed Peter's hesitation, and wondered what he could do to make him see how much he meant to him. With a final burst of desperation, threw all his chips in. "I love you, Peter."

"Dammit, Gabriel, that's not fair!" Peter said and the sparkling blue that had been dancing on his arms and hands flared and faded out. How could he agree to be with Gabriel when every time he looked at the man, he was reminded of something horrible in his life? Pain and sadness. Fear and rage. All of it centered around this one man? This one man that made him feel more alive than anyone or anything else had ever done.

Gabriel said he loved him. Did he really know what that meant? "You don't know the meaning of the word love," Peter said quietly, "The stuff you've done to me Sy-Gabriel, it's not easy to just forget about and sweep under the rug."

"I'm not asking you to forget about it, Peter. I'm asking, begging, for a chance, hell a lifetime to make up for it. I don't beg, Peter, ever. You know me, but I will in this instance. This once. Please, give me, give us a chance. I'll never hurt you again."

"Give 'em a chance," some random bar patron cried out and Peter snorted.

"Even after everything he's done to me?" Peter asked the other men at the bar. A few looked away, unwilling to get involved, but a couple others nodded.

"We've all done shit we regret, man. Got to let it go or it'll eat you alive like cancer." This time it was the bartender that spoke. He reminded Peter a lot of Sam Elliot.

Gabriel grinned, "See, even Sam Elliot agrees. We could be good together, Pete. Could even save the world."

"Save the cheerleader, save the world," Peter whispered and let out a huge sigh.

"She's safe from me, Peter."

"No more cutting up my niece, going after her friends?" Peter said with a crooked smile and took a step in Gabriel's direction.

"It's her girlfriend, and nope. No more cutting people's heads open." He grabbed Peter by the belt and pulled him the rest of the way to him. "I got a new way to absorb powers."

"You got enough," Peter whispered before he pressed his lips against the taller man's. They still had stuff to work out, but for now, they had done enough talking. It had only been a half of a day that they were apart and Peter knew he wouldn't be able to make it much longer without touching Gabriel.

"For now, at least," Gabriel agreed and kissed Peter deeply, right in the middle of the bar. Cheers and calls for house rounds sounded and Gabriel grinned. "I think I like Seattle. One more thing,"

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll never run from me again, Peter. There is only so much, he, _I _can take."

Peter threaded his fingers in Gabriel's hair and gripped tight, "I promise I'll never leave you again. Well work it through. I'm done running like a scared girl. Next time, you'll have to kill me, _again_, to get rid of me."

"Forever?" Gabriel asked self-consciously, his eyes intense.

"Forever," Peter agreed, and as he kissed Gabriel, he took the power of immortality also.

FIN


	2. Time

**AN: Gabriel and Peter don't seem to want to leave me alone... so I wrote this. I have another one in the works, it takes place after this one and I'm not sure if I'm gonna make it a separate story or added on to this one. **

**Please read and review to let me know that you like this. It bums me out when I see all the hits and no reviews. Makes me wonder if I suck or what. **

**Thanks to Pamela for helping beta.**

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The tea was hot, sharp and black. That was how he took it now. Not sugared and creamed out as before. The clocks ticked away in the background. Soothing. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The sound was so familiar, but now calmed instead of taunted. Wood creaked as the place settled into the cooler night. The soft hum as the heating unit kicked in to ward off that cool. The hiss no longer invoked a sense of yearning.

He was alone; he had asked to be. It was time to move on and he was struggling to come to terms of what he had done. All he had to do was just close his eyes and replay it all in his mind. So clear, so vivid and stark.

Years spent in this very room, hating it. Hating himself and his father. Hating who and what he had become; which, in his eyes, was nothing. He never wanted to be a nothing. A man that was quickly overlooked and forgotten.

Girls never looked his way, never paid him any mind. The harmless nerd that fiddled with watches. Oh, how boring he had been. Brown slacks and sweater vests with glasses and tea at his elbow. He acted more like an elder Englishman than a man in his prime. But, oh, how he longed for more. Adventure? Maybe, but something else. He longed to matter. He wanted to make a difference, to be special. He felt that he had been born to do more than fix clocks.

It was here, in this very space, that the seeds of Sylar had been sewn. When Chandra Suresh showed up, everything had changed. He knew what he wanted, what he was born for. Suresh rejected him, felt that the tests were inconclusive. He'd been crushed but determined. That was when he contacted Brian Davis who had telekinesis. Looking at him, Gabriel realized he could feel the abilities. Where they were, how to acquire them. It was then that the first drop of blood was spilled, the first life taken.

Beside himself, Gabriel tried to end it there, until Elle came and saved him. She had a large hand in him becoming Sylar and he killed her for it later.

She pretended to care for him, told him that he was special. Made him kill again when all he wanted was her. It was then that the normal, boring Gabriel Gray turned into a half-crazed, power-hungry addict. Sylar had been born. He had only wanted to be special. Wanted to be something other than the watchmaker that he was. He wanted to matter, to make a difference. He wanted to be loved.

The sharp clarity in which he took his first life was shocking. The one perfect moment when it all made sense. When he knew how to fix the broken. Fix himself. The rhythm had been off, but Gabriel, the watchmaker, the expert in time, knew what to do.

The fist kill had been messy. He had no way to make a clean cut, no tools or abilities. Just a blunt force trauma and a lot of blood.

There were a few moments that stood out more than others. People, their abilities and what he did to acquire them. Who he hurt, how they screamed and begged.

He remembered the first time he saw Peter. The instant attraction. His mind whirled as he watched and wondered. It took a while to figure out what Peter's ability really was. He had power, Sylar had been sure, but which one? He changed, rotated. Collected. For a moment, he felt a kinship with him. They both held multiple powers. Was it possible that Peter would understand him? Have the same thirst, the same hunger?

Then Peter tried to kill him. He tried not to take it too personally, but what's a man to do?

So he brooded and killed. Screwed women and then killed them too. More and more power was collected and then.. he was powerless once again.

Ebb and flow. It all changed. Gained and lost. Newly acquired and reacquired. The one thing that stayed constant was Peter. He was always there. Friend. Enemy. Brother? Just around the corner, dogging Sylar's steps. Hell bent on stopping him. Killing him but ultimately saving him.

How did you thank someone for that? Sure, Peter's intentions had been purely selfish, but save him he did just the same. After everything he had put him through, Peter had been there when no one else would have cared. Good bye to bad rubbish, but not Peter. No, he was dead set on saving everyone. A true Hero.

It had been Peter's indomitable will and courage that saved them both. That broke down the wall, once and for all.

Now, Gabriel was back in control and Sylar just nagged and bitched about wanting time out to play. He wanted his freedom, but the thing was, with Sylar in change, there was no way to be free. Sylar could kill, rip and render. But Gabriel would be locked up inside along with any chance of salvation he may have. On the run, always looking over his shoulder to see what was coming. Not that it mattered overly much, as he couldn't be killed but someone could get a lucky shot in and hit him in that one spot that would shut him down. He really didn't want to take the chance any longer. Not now with Peter in his life for good.

He wanted to be a normal man again, maybe for the first time. He wanted to worry about bills and taxes, dinner and hurt feelings. He wanted to be able to sit around, relax and drink tea by the gallons.

Why had he ever wanted more? What was so wrong with a quiet life? A house and kids maybe? Friends, people that actually liked you?

So many bridges burned, so many sins to atone for. Where could he even start?

The door bell jingled and Gabriel felt his body tense and loosen at the same time. Peter was there. Everything would be alright now. His time alone was done. The past was just that and it was time to look toward building a future.

They didn't speak as Peter came and stood at Gabriel's shoulder. They looked down at the new red carpet that covered up the blood stain on the wooden floor. This was where it all had started. Peter ran his hand down the back of Gabriel's arm and the grasped his hand before pressing his lips to the ball of his shoulder and just rested there. Strong and quiet. Gabriel's rock.

The silence drew out, nothing but the sounds of night and clocks keeping time in the background. Counting away moments, minutes. With each tick, Sylar's hold slipped just a bit more. Every second that passed marked one more moment of Gabriel. His will, his desire to change.

They stood there for 44 minutes and 13 seconds, until Gabriel sighed, turned toward Peter and kissed his forehead.

The tea had gone cold and bitter. A small gleam of oil slicked the top. Gabriel looked at it and wrinkled his nose. He picked up a neatly hand lettered sign and walked to the door. He waited for Peter to exit first and slid it in the window and locked the door.

For Sell by Owner.

It was time to move on. Time to put the past behind and start over. They'd decided to try their hand in Seattle.


End file.
